


He is Kind, She is Free

by StrawberryWhorecake



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryWhorecake/pseuds/StrawberryWhorecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short pieces that span over the relationship of Alistair and the Warden Gretl Brosca.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sky

Her first few days on the surface were difficult. She often felt lost in haze. She tried to absorb the new information, the new surroundings, but often found herself flailing about. She hated it. Everyone treated her like a child, and often she felt like a child. Things that were simple to the humans seemed foreign to her. Grass, trees, bird songs, streams. It was all new and she found it hard to take it all in. 

Then of course there was the sky. Gretl retched when Duncan first brought her out of Orzammar. He seemed content to breath in the fresh air, but for her it was painful. For the first few moments she felt as though she might die. The mountain air was thin, the wind was bitter and she sky was endless. It seemed impossible; she found it hard to comprehend. Surely there must be an end? Something cannot simply go on forever. For the first week Gretl could not look up. Any time she did she felt the familiar wave of panic and nausea hit her. Even an upward glance would make her dizzy and she lost her footing. Gretl kept her head down through most of the trek to the Kocari Wilds. After the first week she could stand to keep her head at an even pace, but staring too far upward was still too daunting for her. 

On her first night out of Orzammar, one of the Grey Wardens that accompanied Duncan offered her a towel.

“There’s a creek just down that hill if you want to wash up.” The man said. 

“A what?” Gretl had asked, she didn’t know what a creek was, She assumed it was water since she could use it to wash Beraht’s blood from her body. The man’s mouth dropped and Gretl blushed. Duncan quickly came to her aid. 

“A small body of water, if flows from the river.” Duncan said before explaining to the warden that in Orzammar all water flows through the rocks and is mined like any other mineral. Gretl nodded before heading down the hill. She had no desire to make herself seem like any more of an outsider than she already felt. 

Her eyes grew wide in amazement when she saw what they spoke of, the water rushed through a trench making the most melodious sound. Gretl quickly fell in love with it. She leaned down and splashed the cool liquid on her face. Blood and dirt flowed through her fingers. Some of it was hers, some wasn’t. Was it only that morning that she was locked in a filthy cell in the carta’s hideout? Was it only that morning that she thought she was going to die?

Now she was free. A surfacer, a Grey Warden recruit, washing herself in a creek. She laughed at the absurdity, but her laughter soon turned to hot tears that streamed down her dirty cheeks. Gretl admitted that a small part of her wished that this had never happened. She wished that now she could be at home, in her hovel covered in dirt and waiting for her sister to come home. 

She worried about Rica, worried about what she would do without her. Gretl sighed. Rica didn’t need her; it was Gretl that was the burden. Rica did what she did so Gretl wouldn’t have to, even before she caught Beraht’s interest. Rica would leave the home with men several times a night and come home with only a few coppers to show for it. As Gretl got older, their mother insisted that she join Rica. Rica railed at mother. Rica never lost her temper, but that night Gretl could only watch her sister’s wrath. Gretl never joined Rica, so she did what she did best: busted heads, knocked people around. Kept the men that Rica stepped out with from hurting her. It was only a short time before Beraht noticed both of them, and then they were both under his thumb. 

Gretl dipped her head in the creek and exhaled. The cool water felt good running through her hair. Brown streams formed in the water as the dirt left her hair, and soon her golden hair was left at its natural sheen. Gretl watched the dust wash away, watched what was left of Orzammar leave her.


	2. Storms

   
She seemed frightened of him at first, and he hated that. She looked up at him like he was some huge lumbering beast. Her blue eyes grew wide, her hand never rested far from the hilt of her dagger. Duncan told him not to worry about it and briefly explained her situation. Alistair had heard of the casteless of Orzammar, but he assumed there was more to her story than what he was told. 

He had moved forward to shake her hand when they met; she jumped back quickly and eyed his outstretched hand with distrust. Alistair hated to admit that this bothered him. He tried to be friendly, tried to make people laugh. He never wanted anyone to look at him with fear. He walked behind her as they journeyed through the camp, becoming hypnotized by the way her thick golden braid bounced as she walked. 

He tried not to let it bother him. She could die in the joining. They could all die in the battle. There was no point in becoming attached to this woman. They spoke little, she asked questions about the Grey Wardens, about the joining. She tried to prod whatever information she could out of him. The more they spoke the less she shied away from him. 

She moved like a shadow in battle, he rarely saw her. She snuck behind the darkspawn and stabbed them from behind, hitting their ankles and knees to weaken them. He remembered rushing towards her when he saw a Hurlock try to sneak up on her, it raised its twisted blade to strike while she ran her dagger through another. Alistair banged his sword against his shield and yelled nonsensical words to the beast. It worked. The Hurlock charged at Alistair, but Gretl turned then, slicing its ankles. It fell screaming to the ground where Alistair easily finished it off. 

He laughed. “You know, I think we work well together.” He said. She looked up at him then and smiled. It was the first time he had seen her smile. That was when Alistair’s world stopped. 

He lay in his tent at their camp outside Lothering. He sighed, unable to sleep. So much had happened in the last few days, it didn’t seem real. At least she was here. Maker, if he had been alone he didn’t know how he would have made it. When she crept out of Flemeth’s hut, her body bruised and broken, she gave him a slight smile. He didn’t know what he did to earn it, but it made him feel better at the time. He assumed that she was just as relieved to not be left alone as he. 

He turned on his side as a wave of drowsiness hit him. He could hear the distant rolling of thunder in the distance. Good, he thought. He always slept better in a storm.   
   
Gretl grunted as she ran the comb through her long hair. It had been a gift from Leliana. The look on the woman’s face told Gretl that it might have been a gift out of pity. Gretl had never owned a comb and definitely didn’t think she needed one now, but she was flattered by the gift. 

She pulled and tugged through the locks. Life on the surface had grown easier for Gretl. Not the darkspawn or the civil war, but she was quickly learning how to appear normal. The hardest adjustment had been the people. Living in Dust Town, Gretl had grown used to being spat on, talked down to, and pushed aside. There were people who still treated her badly on the surface, but there were more kind people as well. Nobody took a second glance at the brand on her face, no one sneered as she passed by, merchants did not shoe her away from their stores. The most attention she got from strangers was for the mere fact that she was a dwarf. She didn’t see many dwarves on the surface, especially not any in the company of a human man. 

Gretl had been wary of Alistair when they first met. He was a warrior. In Orzammar she avoided the warrior caste. They were the most self-righteous and often the cruelest. Deep down she knew that he was different; she could tell when they first met. His smile came too easy, his laugh too sure, he was far too kind to be like the warriors she knew in Orzammar. 

She exhaled as she admired the handiwork of the comb. Her hair now flowed easily through her fingers. She wished she could see how it looked. A bright flash of light illuminated her tent. Gretl jumped. A rumble that erupted and shook the ground quickly followed the sound. Her breath grew rapid. It reminded her of the sound of a cave in. But she was outside. On the surface. There were no caves, she was not underground. The light flashed again. Was this magic? She had seen Morrigan do magic, but it was never like this. Were they under attack? Something hit the roof of her tent, pattering like a million stones being dropped at once. The loud rumble again. She jumped at the sound. She had to warn the others, she had to find out what was happening. 

She threw the flap of her tent open and ran out into the night. She kept her head down but something cool and wet sprinkled down on her body. She rushed int the tent adjacent to her own. 

“Alistair!” She cried. The man jumped from his bedroll, his eyelids heavy still from sleep. How could he sleep through this? The world was ending and Alistair was asleep. 

“C…Gretl?” He stammered, looking her over. He grew more alert. “Is something wrong?”

She cringed as the loud rumble echoed all around them. Alistair seemed unfazed.   
“That!” She said pointing to the tent opening. “Don’t you hear it? Something horrible is happening!”

Alistair glanced into the camp, and then his eyes grew wide as he seemed to realize something that she did not. She yelped and covered her ears as the sound hit again. He put his hands firmly on her shoulders. 

“Gretl!” he said slightly jostling her. “Gretl, it’s just a storm!”

She looked at him oddly. Storm. She had heard this word since coming to the surface, people seemed to be wary of storms. 

“What do you mean?” Light illuminated the tent. “What is that?” She cried. 

He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “It’s lightning!” He said trying to find his words. “It’s sort of…a bolt of energy. It happens in storms! And the noise, it’s called thunder. It’s the noise that the lighting makes.”

She lowered her hands slowly. “So this is…normal?” She asked. Alistair nodded. “Where does it come from? Why does it happen?”

“Well…it’s uh…in the clouds. Those are sort of…they block the sky. I can show you during the day.”

“I’ve seen clouds.” She said indignantly. She learned about clouds on her first day out of Orzammar. “But this didn’t happen before!”

“Clouds don’t always mean rain.” He struggled to explain. “Only the grey ones, not the white ones.”

“What about the water?” She motioned to the wetness that covered her. 

“Uh…right.” He said. “There’s water in the clouds, and sometimes it falls. It’s called rain. There are thunderstorms and rainstorms.”

He continued on with his explanation, but Gretl found it hard to concentrate. Her head was spinning and the crack of the thunder seemed to grow louder. She jumped every time. 

“Does it frighten you?” Alistair queried. Gretl nodded as she ducked her head. Alistair only smiled. 

“I suppose if it was my first time to hear it, it might scare me as well. But it can’t hurt you, I mean as long as you don’t go outside and get struck by lightning.”

Gretl’s eyes grew wide. “What?” She whispered, horrified. Alistair was quick to reassure her. 

“Well, that doesn’t happen often. It’s very rare. Just stay out of the open in a storm.”

Gretl laughed dryly at his flippant tone. She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered; it was only then that she realized she ran into Alistair’s tent in her pajamas. She wore only a thin chemise, now wet, and her smalls. She blushed then as she realized that Alistair only slept in his trousers. Gretl was so terrified of the storm that she didn’t notice that he was shirtless until now. She forced herself to look away, although it was difficult. 

“You must think I’m an idiot.” She sighed. “I thought I was learning all this surface shit, but now…”

“Oh, stop.” He said in his glib voice. “I’m sure if I went to Orzammar I would be dead in an hour.”

She snorted. 

“I mean it.” He continued. “They would find my body naked behind a tavern. At least that’s how I want to be found.”

Gretl laughed then. The thunder boomed again and she jumped. 

“Do these last long?” She asked. “Can I stay here? I don’t want to be alone.”

Alistair blushed but nodded. He moved to the far end of his bedroll, leaving room for Gretl to lie down. He also lay down, turning his back to her and she to him. The patter of the rain on the tent soon became sort of comforting, and the bellow of the thunder soon ceased to make her jump. 

Alistair’s breathing soon fell into a slow rhythmic pace. Gretl pressed her back against his. He was warm and solid. She remembered a time when she was a child. Gretl would try to stay up and wait for Rica to come home, but she almost always fell asleep. She always kept her back to the stone; it was strong, solid and warm. She knew that nothing could sneak up on her while she slept. She watched the door for Rica or for the occasional thief that might try to enter. The Stone comforted her, that’s how she felt now with her back pressed against his. Safe. Even though the storm raged outside she did not fear it while she was with this man.   
   
The dawn light crept through the tent and landed across his eyes. Alistair groaned and rubbed his wrist across his forehead. He started to stand, then paused. There was a warm body nestled against his side. His eyes shot open. Gretl. Memories from the previous night flooded back to him.

He thought he was dreaming at first. He couldn’t possibly imagine a scenario in which she would run into his tent half naked, drenched in rain. And he never thought he would have to explain what a thunderstorm was to anyone. He glanced down at her peacefully sleeping form. How strange their world must appear to her. How horrifying it must feel to be thrust into a new place. But she carried herself well, most of the time their party was none the wiser to the struggles she faced. 

He sat up on his elbow, trying hard not to wake her. Alistair resisted the urge to pull her golden locks away from her sleeping face. The previous night he saw what she tried to hide in the daylight, her vulnerability. She put on the façade of aloof toughness; she met the world with casual disgust. He assumed that this was a survival trait picked up from her life in Orzammar. He understood hiding your personality for survival; it was how he lived as well. 

He tried to extricate himself from her, as pleasing as it was having her soft, curvy body pressed against him. There was no noise in the camp therefore it was safe to assume everyone else still slept. It would be best to wake her now, lest their party think they engaged in some sort of tryst. 

He gently pressed his hand on her shoulder and whispered her name. She awoke with a jump, her breath coming out in rapid pants. 

“Are you ok?” He asked. Gretl nodded as she gathered in her surroundings. She grimaced. “Oh, shit.” She said clutching her head. “I’m sorry.”

Alistair cocked an eyebrow and she continued. “I didn’t mean to come in here and completely make an ass of myself. Ugh. I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”

Her face turned an adorable shade of crimson. Alistair laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. As the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden, I think we should have each other’s back. And you put up with me after Ostagar and I wasn’t really in the best of spirits then.”

She gave him a half smile. “Well…I…um…Thanks.” She muttered before quickly leaving his tent for her own. 

Alistair sat there for a moment, feeling strangely cold.   
 


	3. Chapter 3

Gretl dipped her bare feet into the pond as she sat on the bank. It was an amazing sensation, feeling the cool water as it slipped through her toes. She watched the clear water flow over her feet as she splashed lightly. The other warden stood not too far off, staring intently at the large wooden rod in his hand. 

“You’re going to scare them all off if you keep doing that.” He told her. 

“Oh.” She said as she lifted her feet from the water, burying them in the sand instead. She still didn’t understand what he was trying to catch with a stick, but there was much about the surface that still eluded her. She hugged her arms around her body for warmth. The sun was setting and now a chill flowed through the woods. Gretl found the sky becoming much easier to bear as the days wore on, and now she found it completely fascinating. Long clouds stretched across a pale blue sky streamed with orange, pink and purple. The sky had been something that terrified and sickened her once, but now in the cool evenings she found herself unable to look away. 

“More likely the fish were scared off by Alistair’s booming voice.” Morrigan chimed. She came to see if there would be any actual meat for them that evening or more bread and broth. “I also have my doubts as to whether or not he actually knows what he is doing.”

“Hey!” Alistair said defensively. “I grew up in Redcliff. There’s a lake there. I’ve fished hundreds of times.”

Morrigan scoffed as she walked back to the camp. Alistair muttered something under his breath. Gretl smiled. She had quickly grown fond of her companions, even though they weren’t all fond of each other.

“So,” Gretl began softly. “You tie something to the end of the pole and the little creatures come to eat it?”

“Fish, My warden friend. They are called fish.” Alistair said before going on to explain how he would catch the fish. Gretl chewed her bottom lip and stared at the water’s stilled surface. It seemed ridiculous but she wouldn’t complain about having meat for supper. 

They sat in silence for some time while watching the still water of the pond. 

“How long does it usually take?” She asked. Alistair frowned. 

“Sometimes it can take awhile for the fish to bite.” He said. “You don’t have to stay here, you know. It can get rather boring.”

Gretl shook her head. “Oh no.” She said. “I want to see this.”

Alistair glanced at her, then back at the pond. “Do you want to try?” he asked nodding to the rod in his hand. Gretl’s eyes widened.

“Really?” She asked. Alistair grinned boyishly. 

Gretl jumped and rushed to his side, not bothering to hide her enthusiasm. He handed her the wooden rod. 

“Just hold it.” He said. “And if you feel it move, pull it out really fast.”

Gretl nodded. The task seemed easy enough. She settled next to him on the shore. The comfortable silence resumed. The rod was light and the string stretched far across the water. Gretl gave it a light tug but nothing happened. She sighed and settled down for a long wait. Alistair idly pulled blades of grass from the earth beside him. 

“So,” He asked softly, not making eye contact. “You never speak of Orzammar. Do you miss it?”

Gretl felt herself bristle at the question. It was a question too complicated for a single answer. 

“I miss my sister.” She said flatly. Alistair was not deterred by her tone.

“You have a sister?” He asked interested. “Younger or older?”

“Older.” Gretl said. Memories of Rica flooded back to her. She wondered how her sister fared; she hoped the nobleman she was seeing treated her well. But she knew Rica well enough to know that her sister could take care of herself. 

“But you don’t miss Orzammar itself? Even though it was your home?” 

Damn that man. He knew exactly how to cut to the root of her. Gretl sighed. 

“No.” She said honestly. “All my life I was filled with tales of how awful the surface was, how dwarves who leave Orzammar lose their stone sense. It was a trap. Being casteless, they give you the cruelest fate imaginable and tell you your only alternative for a good life is worse than death. They wouldn’t even let someone like me fight darkspawn. The only life me and my sister could hope for was being either a whore or a criminal.”

Alistair eyed her curiously. Gretl avoided his gaze and stared out over the pond, the sky now turning a darker shade of blue. 

“It was very strange at first. I guess I expected to be treated the same. Nobody cares who I am up here. No one even knows what this means.” She gestured to the brand on her face. “I have yet to be spat on or told that I don’t belong somewhere.”

Alistair blanched. “They really do that in Orzammar?”

Gretl nodded. “Only to casteless. We’re rejected by the stone, not even people really.”

She felt Alistair stiffen beside her, he seemed troubled by something but she wasn’t sure how to ask what. Friendship was something that was new to her as well. She had friends in Orzammar, Leske being one. But those were alliances formed from necessity. They worked together; they both lived in the slums. Her friendship with Alistair seemed more natural, but she wasn’t sure how or what that even really meant.

“Oh!” She exclaimed as a thought occurred to her. “Can we go to a tavern one day? I’ve never been allowed to drink in a tavern. It looks like fun.”

Alistair laughed delightedly. “Of course, dear warden.”

Gretl smiled. “What about you?” She asked. “Do you have any family?”

Alistair furrowed his brow and frowned. He inhaled deeply and opened his mouth as though to answer. 

Before Alistair could speak, the rod in Gretl’s hand yanked out of her light grasp. She exclaimed and dove in the shallow water after it. On her hands and knees in the pond, she managed to take hold of the rod again. 

“What do I do? What do I do?” She asked frantically. Alistair jumped up. 

“Pull it up!” He shouted. Gretl obliged but it was to no avail. The fish that took the bait was obviously very large. Gretl pulled but the creature managed to drag her further in the pond. Heavy splashing heralded the approach of Alistair. He wrapped his arms around her waist and took hold of the rod just below her grip. Gretl felt her heart beat faster but forced herself to concentrate on the task of reeling in the fish. 

With Alistair’s help they managed to pull the beast ashore and it lay flopping wildly on the sand. Gretl stood back, watching the strange thing from a distance. Alistair struggled to catch his breath. 

“That…” Gretl said. “…is the ugliest thing I have ever seen.”

Alistair cocked an eyebrow. “We’ve faced a horde of darkspawn. You tackled an ogre, but this is the ugliest thing you have seen?”

Gretl snarled her lip and nodded. 

Alistair carried the fish as they made their way back to camp. Morrigan eyed them curiously. 

“Did you have to dive in and catch it with your bare hands?” She asked, noting their soaked state. 

“Keep talking like that, Morrigan and I won’t share my delicious fish with you.”

“If you’re cooking, I’m sure it will be quite inedible.”

Leliana chimed in then. “I like Alistair’s cooking!” She said. “It’s very simple. Not ostentatious like Orlesian cuisine.”

“I’m not sure if that was a compliment.” Alistair muttered to Gretl. She smiled then, possibly the first genuine smile she had been able to muster in weeks. Alistair’s step missed a beat as he stared at her. He cleared his throat. 

“Do you want to help me cook it?” He asked. Gretl shook her head. 

“I don’t really want to touch it.”

 

Gretl discovered that evening that she didn’t really like fish. At first she thought Alistair simply cooked it poorly, but Leliana was insistent that the fish was delicious and Morrigan said nothing at all, which meant that she also enjoyed the meal. 

But Gretl found herself unable to finish it, instead slipping her scraps to the dog in secret so she wouldn’t risk offending Alistair.

That evening she lay on her bedroll in her tent, the sleeping mabari lay at her feet while her stomach growled. She groaned softly and hoped she would still be able to sleep. 

Soft footsteps padded outside her tent. 

“Gretl?” Alistair whispered. She sat up quickly.

“Yes?” She asked and cringed when her voice faltered. He poked his head in her tent. 

“I noticed you didn’t like your dinner.” He said softly. Gretl bit her lip,

“I’m sorry…” She began. “It was great, I just don’t think…”

Alistair shook his head and cut her off.

“It’s fine.” He said. “I could tell from your face that you didn’t like it. But I don’t want you to starve.”

He slipped her a small mound wrapped in cloth. 

“Here” He said softly. ”Just something extra I had.”

He slipped out before Gretl could thank him. She unwrapped the cloth to reveal a small loaf of bread. She smiled and felt a strange stirring in her chest. Unable to discern its meaning, she simply ate the bread.


End file.
